After a fantastic and surprisingly tipsy evening at my friend John's house party, I woke up on the couch thinking, "Shit, my neck hurts!/what on God's green earth was so funny last night?" I certainly was not thinking, "fuck, I sure hope somebody didn't break into my car!" Apparently my spidey senses were malfunctioning. After a little more rest and the longest piss ever, I was putting some empty bottles and cans into the trunk of my car when I noticed that my backpack was missing. Thinking it was probably in the passenger seat I got into my car and found that everything was torn up! The glove box opened and emptied, same with the center console, and all the shit in my back seat. All in all, they took my backpack that had my calculator, my text books, and my spare toothbrush along with my pride and joy giant blazers poster and my moms computer. As you might imagine, I was pissed, and my first thought I semi-shamefully admit went something like this . . .
To whoever broke into my car: I hope you come down with the most horribly painful form of dick cancer ever known to mankind. Further, I hope that after many years of fighting the disease you overcome it only to get trampled by horses directly after receiving a phone call from your mother telling you that your entire family hates you for sucking them dry financially with all your medical bills. Then you get AIDS, not HIV, full blown AIDS.
I decided though that that might be a little too much so I chose instead to hope this . . .
To whoever broke into my car: I hope you use my backpack, my calculator, my calc and immunology books, my spare toothbrush and my moms computer to learn, educate, and better yourself in hopes of breaking your cycle of petty crime.
That though is way too sappy and optimistic for me so in the end, I decided to to meet in the middle and wish this upon the car burglar . . .
To whoever broke into my car: I'd like to preface simply by saying, Fuck you. I hope someone else steals all the stuff that you stole from me and then uses it all to spark an interest in math and science that eventually propels them toward medicine where they discover a cure for the most horribly painful form of dick cancer ever known to mankind that you have in fact developed in the later years of your life. He cures you and you live an average, moderately happy life even though you had to have your penis amputated.
Seriously though, who sees a shitty red '96 Pontiac Grand Am and thinks, "I bet that kid has some good shit in there!"
Clearly I'm just rollin in the money.
Are you here with me?
-Brian
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